Chlorr
by Inkie
Summary: The story of Chlorr's mysterious past and how it affected the future we know.
1. Prologue

**AUTHORS NOTE**: I do not own Chlorr, Mogget or any of that stuff. It's all copyright Garth Nix. I _wish_ it was mine.

Prologue

Grey morning light filtered through an open window, blanketing itself atop a young sleeping girl. The girl moaned and turned over, opening her eyes. She looked over to the window, pulling off her sheets, to see a message hawk perched on the sill. As she stepped over and patted the birds head, it chirped, "**Message for Chlorr. Message.**"

"**Yes, yes, I am Chlorr,**" the girl said softly, letting the hawk hop onto her arm.

The bird peeped once or twice before cocking its head to the side, and opening its beak. "**My dearest Chlorr,**" said a voice, "**I'm sorry to tell you that I sit on my death bed as I send this message to you. I was traveling out of High Bridge and was ambushed by the Dead. Luckily I found my way back to the town and they promise me that I will be properly put to rest. Soon, a white cat should come to your house, carrying-**" The bird closed its beak and re-sat itself on the sill, its mind having reached its capacity.

"**Hm..**." Chlorr hummed, thinking of the news. Her father had died, and a white cat was to show up with something for her. She was never that close to her father; he always seemed preoccupied, and when she asked him what he was doing all the time he was gone, he dodged the question. Chlorr had hoped to get it out of him one day, but it seemed that day would never come. Sighing she sent the hawk on its way and got dressed. She was very mellow and no one would have guessed that her father had died from the way she acted. She was more upset by the fact that she wasn't mourning over her fathers death than she was of the fact itself.

She slipped on a warmer frock, the bell sleeves and long, flowing skirt draping her lean form. Stepping up to her mirror, Chlorr brushed her hair and adjusted her clothes to her liking. She washed her face and hands then found herself near the door. For some reason, she was anxious to step out. As if something important was there. She thought she was crazy. Maybe all of the solitude had finally gotten to her.

When she stepped out her door, tying back her long black hair, she was surprised by a white cat that lay curled up on top of a chest. This must be the cat her father had talked of. He was a very beautiful cat, his fur was sleek and shining and a lovely red-leather color set with Charter marks offset his fur wonderfully. Upon that collar was a silver bell which—on close examination—also had Charter marks on it. She sat on a bench to wait for the kitty to awaken. Just as she had sat down she saw one of the cat's green eyes peeked open.

"**Oh, you're awake!**" Chlorr exclaimed, standing up. There was something about the cats piercing gaze that made him seem less like the other cats she had often cuddled with.

"**Yes, and I have been waiting for you to come out here for quite some time,**" the cat yawned, stretching his back. "**You can call me Mogget, and nothing else.**"

"**Uh, sorry. Mogget.**" She said, trying the name on her tongue. She was quite startled by the cat's sudden harshness, not to mention that it could talk at all. She supposed that the Charter marks on the collar gave it the ability to speak. "**Are you the cat my father spoke of?**" She tried to sound composed, but wasn't sure if she succeeded. Things like that didn't come easy to her. She couldn't just pretend that she was fine.

"**I suppose so, yes.**" Mogget said dully, between licking himself. There was a pause as Chlorr simply stood there and Mogget continued to clean himself. "**These are for you.**" He rapped his claws on the chest he sat on then jumped off. "**The sendings couldn't just let me take them in a normal box...**" he muttered as he looked at the elaborate chest. To make him come all this way, just to deliver a package.

Chlorr pulled the chest over and stared at it a moment, taking it in. It had two drawers near the bottom and one of the sides looked as if it opened out. She rested her hand on the carved oak and then undid the silver clasp that held it shut. It was admirably carved, with keys, stars, towers and trowels. She knew not what the symbols stood for, but their presence seemed to emit a sense of power. After touching it, she realized that it was deeply spelled with Charter magic as well.

Inside there was a neatly folded surcoat and chain mail accompanied by a sprig of lavender to keep them smelling fresh. Puzzled, she unfolded the surcoat to look at the design in the sunlight. Silver keys shone like stars on the deep blue sky of cloth. Folding the surcoat back up, she looked at the mail. It was made in an overlapping pattern, like fish scales, but they were very hard, yet still light-weight. Placing it back she gulped; these items didn't bode well for a safe future. Opening one of the drawers, she found a long sword the length of her arm, in its sheath. On top of the blade lay a belt with a place to attach the sword and a small pouch. Without closing that drawer she pulled open the other one. She saw a green leather book with a silver clasp. Just seeing it she felt a sense of foreboding and power. The drawer that it sat in seemed to be made for it, the velvet lining just touching the emerald spine. She was going to touch the book, but stopped, out of fear. She knew what would be in the pull out door. Lifting a delicate hand and letting her head droop slightly, she clicked it open. Upon the hook was a bandolier of bells, the tools of a necromancer.

She felt tears come, then swallowed them harshly. Her father hadn't merely been attacked by choice. Her father was a necromancer; he must have summoned them and lost control. The fate of her father dawned on her as the cat—Mogget, she remembered in the back of her mind—hopped onto her shoulder, making her jump. He draped himself around her neck and sighed, "**Welcome, Abhorsen.**" in her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

"**Abhorsen?**" she choked. The Abhorsen was the person who kept away the Dead. Or tried to, she thought of her father losing to the Dead.


	2. Abhorsen?

**Authors Note**: Thanks, Sinewy, for the review. I was very excited about this, being my first fan-fic, so I'm trying to get off to a good start with publishing my chapters on time. Please, no flames. Any review saying that this isn't good is fine, but no 'OMG, it sucks. You can't write at all, you should just give up etc.' will be removed and ignored, so just don't try. Let's be civilized.

Chapter One

Chlorr sat there, frozen at the single word. "**Abhorsen?**" she tried once more. _He must be mistaken_, she thought. Still, the cat Mogget merely twitched at her voice in his tall cat ears. She didn't want to offend the poor cat; he must be tired from the journey. She lifted him gently off her shoulders and followed her urge to scratch him under the chin and just behind the ears. A cat-like grin formed on his face and he purred softly, enjoying the attention. Then, Chlorr suddenly found that her hand was slipping under the blood red collar that had before seemed so innocent. It was cold to the touch and a wave of nausea came over her as she realized it was a binding spell—for Free Magic constructs. She stood up and stepped back as the cat squinted lazily up at her, trying to seem innocent.

"**What,**" gulped Chlorr, "**are you?**" She almost didn't want the answer. She bit her lip and lifted her head slightly, to look superior. Why would her father have sent a bound Free Magic construct to her?

"**I am Mogget, servant of the Abhorsen—that's you—and the Charter.**" he said matter-of-factly, grooming himself once more.

"**But your collar. The marks on it are used to bind Free Magic constructs.**" she said blandly. Perhaps she misread the marks? Maybe they are just marks that are similar to binding marks? But she knew what she had felt, and it wasn't the simple marks that would give an animal the gift of speech.

"**Yes, so they are. Would you like to see why they're there?**" Mogget teased slyly. This girl was ignorant, and he would have to teach her. His eye twitched a bit at the thought. He hated teaching.

Chlorr didn't want to touch Mogget again, let alone see him unbound. He wasn't as servant, he was a slave. In a way, she pitied him; then she looked down into his cold gaze and lost all pity. She watched him lick himself a few more times then forced herself to sit down next to the chest. As long as he was bound, she should have no worries. "**What must I do?**" Her voice seemed very faint, as if someone else were saying the words.

"**First, I suggest you check the small pouch of the sword belt; there are some things there for you.**" He sat up and slunk over to rest beside her. Chlorr scooted to the far edge of the chest and opened the drawer from there. As she lifted the thick leather belt and opened the pouch she smelled a small taint of free magic coming from inside the bag; or perhaps it was Mogget? No, he hadn't smelt before. Her hands shook as she lifted something cold out of the pouch. A silver ring made almost purely of magic. In the middle was a deep red ruby, held by two silver claws. "**That is of most importance, I urge you to wear it always.**" He sounded somewhat irritated, as if he didn't really want her to put it on.

"**What is it for?**" Chlorr asked as she slipped it on her middle finger, afraid it wouldn't fit. It shrunk itself to fit her finger just right. She held her hand out, examining the gem and silver it was set in.

She reached into the pouch once more as Mogget answered, "**You'll know when you need to use it.**" He seemed full of answers that he just didn't want to tell. The spell may make him help her, but Mogget obviously believed in learning from experience. She brought her hand out of the pouch with at least ten silver deniers for bargaining, she supposed, a sewing kit and some matches. "**You should be getting ready,**" Mogget urged Chlorr. Chlorr leaned over to pat him on the head and tell him she'd be right back, but stopped herself as he squinted at her smooth, pale hand as if it'd be a shame for her to get it scratched. Chlorr got the message and stood up to leave.

She removed the contents of the chest and brought them into her room. She realized that she would have to wear some of her father's breeches and boots. She sighed and stepped across the hall of her still cottage-like home and found the smallest pair of breeches and boots. Luckily her father never got rid of his clothes, as he was rarely there. After retrieving those items she laid out the clothes daintily, only to be interrupted by an impatient Mogget saying, "**Hurry it up in there, we really must be going.**"

She stripped down to her under things and put the breeches and a soft cotton shirt on, then the scale-like mail and the surcoat. The sword was spelled like most new things she seemed to be finding. At first she thought she saw a name imprinted on the sharp edge, but it soon disappeared. She disregarded this as part of the heavy magic and slid it into its sheath listening to the metal-on-metal sound. After that she slipped the belt around her waist, finding that it was very large for her—probably made for someone older—then adjusted it to fit properly. Next came the bells. She stared at them, tears blurring her vision. As soon as she put them on she would no longer be Chlorr; she would be Abhorsen. She forced her hand not to shake as she lifted the bandolier and put it over her head, feeling the weight of the bells heavy on her chest. She quickly pulled her hair out of its loose tie and braided it down her back and tied it tight, with two ribbons and some quick Charter marks for grip and tightness.

With that done, she slipped on her boots and made a quick glance in the mirror as she stepped out to the hall. The transformation was complete. She was Abhorsen. She was terrified.

Mogget sat in the hall, stock still, waiting. He blinked then turned to lead her out. "**We really must be going, we've wasted all morning,**" he commented as they reached the kitchen, "**But we should eat something before we leave.**" With that he hopped up on the table and waited for her to get out the food. The cat stared at her, waiting.

Chlorr prepared warm tea and cut some bread for herself then boiled some leftover meat for Mogget. "**This is all we have, the meat should be fine; I bought it last night.**" Mogget replied by grabbing it in his teeth and pulling it out the door to finish his meal in peace. Chlorr let out a sigh and drank some of the tea that was supposed to relieve stress. She did feel somewhat more relaxed as she finished off the small lunch of tea and bread. Before she joined Mogget outside, she slipped some of the herbs into a bag which was then put in her belt pouch. With that done, she stepped into the fresh air and saw that Mogget had curled himself up in the empty drawer of the chest and the drawer next to it was not empty. There lay the green leather book that seemed so forbidding. Mogget opened his eyes and yawned, then stepped daintily out of the drawer.

"**You should take that with you, as well, Abhorsen,**" he nodded to the book. "**It is the **_Book of the Dead_**. All Abhorsens must read it.**" Chlorr stared at the book and its silver latch that held it shut. The silver clasp that kept whatever secrets locked safely inside. Silently she bent down and ran her fingers over the wrinkles in its cover. She picked it up, resigned to her fate, and clutched it to her chest as a mother would a child, eyes closed. This book was powerful, she felt, but reading it may save her life. She opened her eyes slowly and stood up. She was ready, she could feel a small bit of courage and strength growing inside her. She had to be Abhorsen, the Dead wouldn't kill another living man if she could prevent it.

"**Where are we going, Mogget?**" she said, holding the book with one hand by her side.

"**First, we must investigate your fathers death. He's stronger than a few Dead Hands.**" Mogget explained. "**So we shall travel to High Bridge, where he was last seen. We should reach the Ratterlin by late today, and that is very fortunate.**"

"**Why don't we just continue on past the Ratterlin? We can get to High Bridge by morning if we travel through the night.**" Chlorr replied, starting to feel the fear of travel creep over her, and some of that recently found courage left her. The farthest she had gone from her small home in Aunden was to the Mountains less than 3 hours travel one way.

"**Did your father tell you nothing? **

_When the Dead do walk, seek waters run  
For this the Dead will always shun_

_Deep rivers best, or broadest lake_

_To ward the Dead and haven make  
If water fails thee, fires thy friend_

_If neither guards it shall be thy end_"

Mogget recited the children's song. This girl knew nothing of the Dead, but she would soon learn, for they would surely seek her out. "**And they are much stronger by night. If we find the river, we should be able to find some island to take refuge on. Unless you'd rather take your chances; I wouldn't mind.**" Mogget didn't sound pleased in the least by Chlorr's lack of everyday Abhorsen knowledge.

"**That's okay.**" Chlorr said, seeing his fierce glance, "**My father was always out doing his job. I learned only household things from my mother, and she left to find my father when I was 13. I suppose she settled down with someone else, or died.**" Chlorr explained. _I do miss her_, she thought to herself, _but I must focus on the future and not the past—good or bad_. With those words in her head, she took her first step toward the mighty Ratterlin River; and away from her safe home.


	3. The Ratterlin

**Authors Note**: Thank-you for your review, dyingfromacough. I'm happy that not just my friends are reading this story. Sorry this chapter took so long. It's a pretty boring chapter, too. My apologies!

Chapter 2

Chlorr and Mogget reached the Ratterlin just before nightfall, spotting an islet just down stream. Chlorr waded out, carrying Mogget in the crook of her arm then began to set up camp.

"**Do you know how to cast a diamond of protection?**" Mogget asked, as she gathered dry wood for a fire. His green eyes focused somewhere into the dense foliage of the eastern shore of the Ratterlin.

"**Of course, I'm not so oblivious!**" Chlorr said, cross. How could someone not know how to cast a simple diamond of protection? "**Why?**" she asked, her rage being overcome by a sudden realization, as a cold sense tingled in the dark corners of her mind.

"**You may want to consider casting one. There are three Dead Hands headed this way. They should be here within the hour.**" Mogget seemed very calm, unlike his statement.

"**Wh-what? Did you say Dea-Dead?**" she stuttered, dropping her wood and jerking up with a straight back. Her heart pounded and the cold sense grew. Without waiting for a reply, she drew her sword and held it awkwardly, weighing it in her hands. She had never used a sword for anything, it would be better if she made the marks in the sand with her finger. Slipping her sword back in its sheath and bent down to the ground.

She traced the north mark and squinted as it sparked into radiance. She scooted over to do the east mark and just as she started tracing it, Chlorr felt that sixth sense become like a frozen rock in the back of her mind. Ignoring it, she let her magic flow into the east mark. Soon she was on the final mark; the west mark. She could hear a faint clinking of bones and dead flesh toppling over itself toward her. She couldn't lose her concentration.

That ice sense overtook her just as she finished the last mark, and the dead filtered out of the trees and screeched as they saw her. She clasped her hands to her ears at the terrible noise and suddenly realized that the cool sense grew as the Dead were nearer. In her rush to finish the diamond she hadn't made the connection. That must be her Dead Sense, then.

"**That should hold until morning,**" Mogget announced, inspecting her work, after Chlorr had taken her hands off her ears. "**We'd best sleep now, since dinner seems to be impossible.**"

"**But what of the Dead,**" Chlorr questioned, "**Do we just leave them?**" Even from inside the diamond, she didn't feel safe from the creatures. They stumbled and moved in such an inhuman way, not to mention the creaks and groans of deteriorating bones and rotting muscles that shouldn't work.

After setting a small fire and making a pillow of leaves, Chlorr found that sleep came easily. She hadn't even removed her bells or let her hair down before she closed her eyes. It seemed that she was soon awakened by Mogget butting her with is soft white head. He himself looked as if he had just gotten up, for the fur on his right side was matted and dirty. The sun wasn't up yet up, but there was a faint glow on the horizon. She could see no Dead and her diamond of protection was much weakened by time.

"**You'd best get up, Abhorsen,**" Mogget said, as Chlorr pulled open her heavy eyelids. "**You should prepare for travel now, so we don't waste time later.**" It seemed like he had something else in mind, but Chlorr was too tired to ask what.

Chlorr shook her head drowsily. As she pulled her self up, she decided to make some of her tea to help her awaken. But since she had no way of heating the water, she just slipped some of the leaves into her mouth to chew them. Although it was quite bitter, chewing it kept her hunger at bay. She stood and let down her diamond of protection, as no Dead were in sight. She went to the other side of the islet and cleaned her self in the cool river, letting it carry her troubles away. After she redressed and brushed her hair, she re-lit the fire. She watched its flicker, idly twiddling her fingers and picking up the orange leaves that were scattered about the island.

"**I guess this would be as good a time as any for you to begin your studies of **_The Book of the Dead_" Mogget said, suddenly, after making sure his hairs were in just the right spots. He had a voice that seemed cruel, yet emotionless at the same time. His pink tongue was constantly moving, be it from speech or grooming. His eyes were fierce and his hearing acute. He had many services to offer to an Abhorsen, but he refused to give her any of them.

Chlorr's eyes bulged slightly, She had nearly forgot about that. Her hand shook as she remembered it. She had stuffed it absently under her pillow of leaves. While she slept soundly, the emerald book had waited for her under her head. She lifted it out, the leaves cascading off the cover, then undid the silver latch and began to read.


	4. Practice Makes Perfect

**Authors Note**: Thank-you so much for reviewing, srjj90 and Renowe! Here's chapter three for ya', hope it's better than the last chapter.

Chapter 3

'_Chapter One_' Chlorr muttered as she began the book. Suddenly, it didn't seem so frightening; just a book. But in the back of her mind she heard that inhuman screech of the Dead and felt the fear that came with it. It wasn't the book, but the secrets the book held that made it so important. She continued to read, letting that small part of her brain be overcome with the intake of knowledge.

It seemed like minutes, but soon she reached the end of the book. '_Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?_' The books final adage still echoed through her brain. Mogget was sitting near the water, staring at something beneath the murky surface. Chlorr shut the latch noiselessly and slipped it back under her cover of leaves. She would have asked Mogget what he was doing, if it weren't for fear of breaking his concentration. Instead, she gathered more firewood and reset the fire. It was almost sunset; she had spent the whole day engulfed in the book. Mogget suddenly surged his paw forward into the water and when the white paw emerged, a glistening fish came with it. Chlorr nearly jumped a foot in the air at his sudden, sharp movement. He quickly bit the fish, stopping its flopping.

Mogget set it down next to her and licked his lips. "**You can cook, can't you?**" he said suddenly.

"**Yes, but I have no pot to cook it in,**" Chlorr replied. "**I suppose I should set another diamond of protection? The Dead should arrive soon.**" Her voice didn't quake at the words, as it would have not to long ago. Her mind was getting used to the idea of Dead things, although she would need another night to sleep on it.

He nodded. "**You can cook it on a thin rock. It will take a while to heat, but it should work.**" Mogget suggested, ignoring her second question. Chlorr promptly found such a rock and set the fish on its surface to cook after washing it in the river. She then set another diamond of protection around the camp, this time trying it with her sword. Although the weight was awkward in her hand, she managed to sketch the symbols in the dirt. "**You should try some fencing,**" Mogget muttered, curling up into a ball as the sun fell behind the trees.

"**I don't know anything about fencing. I need a teacher.**" Chlorr said, glancing at Mogget. "**You don't happen to know, do you?**" She pointed her blade in his direction. He must be good for something.

"**Start with thrusts and basic sword-play,**" he sighed, then sat up from his recently assumed curled position. "**I can teach you that much, Abhorsen.**" He stared down the swords edge up to her pale face. She looked away from his eyes, as if that would change her occupation from Abhorsen to seamstress. "**Hold the sword in your left hand. Balance it, and thrust it forward,**" he instructed. She did as her said, but nearly fell forward from thrusting too hard. She tried several times before she got the hang of it. "**Now slice horizontally.**" Chlorr tried a few times almost tripping over a root and cutting herself. Then she tried some vertical slices. Soon, the fish was ready.

Chlorr cut it with her blade, removed the bones and tossed Mogget half of it, then ate the rest of it herself. She hadn't realized how hungry she was until she began to eat. The fish meat was skimpy, and not too flavorful. She soon wished Mogget had caught another fish. Slipping some more tea leaves into her mouth, she began to hear the Dead approach. Their moldy muscles and broken bones rattling and sometimes falling off. They shuffled clumsily over each other, with no mind but to get at her. By this time, it was very dark.

"**Let's begin our lessons once more.**" Mogget said, his voice slipping out of the shadows. Chlorr nodded and spit out her leaves. She couldn't see Mogget, but she guessed his location from the sound of his voice. She unsheathed her sword and waited for instructions. She saw his emerald gaze pierce through the gloom. Suddenly, the Charter Marks for her diamond that had flared so brightly lost all their light, as if something had sucked the power out of them. "**Practice makes perfect,**" the cat's voice sent shivers rippling down her spine, and the slight tinkling of Mogget's bell resonated in her ears.

The Dead noticed the change immediately; a few even surged forth into the mighty Ratterlin's dark waters. She gulped and looked back to Mogget. He was gone. But where? That question would have to wait. She took a deep breath, but she couldn't stop her shaking. Suddenly she felt that spark of courage grow in her, from where she couldn't tell. She took a step forward then waded halfway across the gap. There were five hands that hadn't jumped into the water. They gazed at her with hunger—a hunger for the living.

When she got within two feet she rebalanced her spelled sword and held it at the ready. A Dead Hand lashed out at her, and she reacted just too slow, her sword weakly slicing a finger as the arm was pulled back. The thing screamed, while another pulsed forward. She thrust her sword into the Dead's stomach and flung it behind her. The Hand was lighter than she thought, but her arm protested still. Her eyes were wide. Now they were lashing out constantly and she desperately tried to think of something to do. She thought she heard a bell chiming as she progressed slowly onto land. The water flowed by her ankles and she was now struggling in a flurry of Dead screaming and her sword cutting through Dead flesh. Her mind was a jumble of half-finished thoughts and her sword seemed to move of its own accord, striking Dead constantly. She found herself crying as the Dead attacked her over and over again. But she didn't sob, the tears merely rolled down her almost white cheeks. Her face was more white than usual, all the color having left it for fear.

"**Kibeth**" she heard Mogget say from at her feet. She glanced down for a second, ducking from a swinging arm. "**Ring Kibeth!**" he said once more. Of course! She had forgotten about the bells. They were strapped across her chest, identifying her as a necromancer. She slipped her hand down from Ranna the Sleeper to Kibeth the Walker. She flipped the pouch open and pulled the bell carefully from the leather after throwing another Dead Hand into the river. Pages from _The Book of the Dead_ flashed in her memory, the diagrams and directions for using the bells flying through her mind. She held it up and rang the bell in an arch pattern. Its tone carried far and all the remaining Dead soon found themselves walking back into death.

She let out a breath she had been holding for what seemed like an eternity. She had a deep scratch on her shoulder and her blade was covered in rotting skin. She let the blade slip into the water, then pulled it out and re-sheathed it. "**Thank-you,**" she said to Mogget between breaths of air. He merely jumped onto her shoulders and lay down.

Soon she was back on her small island and had redrawn the diamond of protection. **"How did you do it?**" she asked Mogget. "**Take down my diamond, that is.**" He opened one green eye then closed it. She stared at his soft white fur for a few minutes then realized he wasn't going to reply. Dousing the fire, she heard more Dead shambling through the woods. There must be a graveyard nearby, for there to be so many bodies. She lay down, and then the pain washed over her. Her left arm throbbed from using her sword and she could still feel the water flowing around her thighs.

There were many things Mogget wasn't telling her. He had power that she didn't know of. She could see knowledge behind his eyes, and the marks on his collar were ancient. Suddenly, she realized that the bell on his collar was a miniature Saraneth, the Binder. One of the Dead screamed on the eastern shore and images of the Dead attacking her flooded her with fear. At the time, she had thought nothing but that she must fight. She let these feelings wash over her and bring her to an uneasy sleep.


	5. The Abhorsen in Waiting

**Authors Note**: Ah, yes. I've finally come to the fourth chapter. I plan on wrapping this story up within 10 chapters. So… On with the story!

And thanks for your reviews, everyone. D

Chapter 4

She woke up slowly, and Mogget sat there, urging her to get up all the while. "**We must make it to High Bridge. I don't want to live on this puny island,**" he commented, "**There's nothing to do here.**"

Without replying, Chlorr washed and then situated her sword, bells and other things properly. The weight was becoming familiar. Soon, they were on their way. Travel seemed slow and they walked without conversation for quite some time. Eventually, the stepped into a forested area and the odd shadows that the morning sun cast danced about their feet.

"**I think they're following us.**" Mogget suddenly whispered into her ear. He had been draped across her shoulders, presumably asleep. Chlorr brushed her ear, as if to swat away a fly, and stopped moving.

"**Who?**" was all she said. Her hand went to her sword and the other instinctively touched the bells. Then she heard it. A twig snap, then a quick breath. Someone was definitely following her.

''**Probably just a townsperson,**" he lied, casually. Something about the way he said 'townsperson' made Chlorr think 'necromancer,' but that was probably just her paranoia.

"**Come out,**" she wanted to shout it. She wanted to run at the person, sword at the ready. But she composed herself, and spoke coolly. She hoped the person didn't notice the slight quiver in her voice.

A bush rustled. Some more snapping twigs, and then a young boy was visible. He appeared out of nowhere, it seemed. He stood next to her, a slight smirk danced across his face to see Chlorr's surprise. Perhaps he was just a townsperson?

"**Who are you?**" Chlorr asked, her hand that held her sword hilt twitched slightly. "**What are you doing here?**" she motioned at the dense forest around them.

"**I'm…**" the boy faltered, and looked away from her incredulous face, "**Terciel.**" It seemed that he was reluctant to speak. He was probably lying. "**And I've come from Belisaere. Who are you?**" he said, without answering her second question.

"**I am Chlo—**" she stopped herself, "**I am Abhorsen.**" She didn't feel like Abhorsen. She felt as small and inexperienced as ever. But he didn't need to know that.

"**You?**" he sounded shocked, "**But you aren't…**" His voice trailed off and he circled her, looking her up and down. "**You can't be. My mother told me the Abhorsen was male.**" Chlorr took a quick breath and tried to keep down a bit of sorrow that welled up in her throat.

"**He's dead. I am Abhorsen now,**" she said, swallowing the knot. The boy winced, and then nodded acceptance. He looked disappointed.

"**Yes, well, I would like to get to High Bridge before the sun sets, so if we could get moving?**" Terciel jumped as the white cat on Abhorsen's shoulders talked.

"**What is that?**" he said in amazement, poking Moggets white fur. "**Some sort of sending?**"

"**No.**" was all that Mogget said in reply. His voice was ice and his green eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the boy pull his hand back. "**I'm Mogget.**"

"**What are you doing here, Terciel?**" it wasn't a question, it was a demand. Chlorr stared at him, earnestness all over her face.

"**My mother told me that she was leaving. And I had to go live with my grandfather, the previous Abhorsen. So she sent me off on my way to his house, which I've only visited once.**" His head was downcast, his expression sad—or perhaps it was angry? "**But since he's dead, I guess that means that you have to take care of me.**" He finished, another slight grin flitting across his face. He looked about 14. Who would send an unarmed 14 year old to some place he had only been to once before?

Chlorr lifted a hand to her cheek and closed her eyes. She was investigating her father's death, which was bad enough, and now some child comes along, claiming that she must watch over him.

There was a long silence, as Chlorr took deep breaths and Terciel stared once more at Mogget's snow white fur.

"**Have you had lunch?**" Abhorsen suddenly asked. She couldn't tell him to leave. Where would he go? So she'd have to take him with her. Terciel shook his head, as much to answer her as to stop staring at the cat. Something about his fur was so welcoming. Perhaps its sleekness?

"**I would advise you not to touch Mogget. He has a habit of trying to get his collar off,**" the boy cringed; she had noticed his stare. "**And you don't want to know what happens when it comes off.**"

Chlorr sent Terciel off to find a stream, and meanwhile, set a fire and looked through _The Book of the Dead_. Already, its contents had changed. It had so much more to teach her.

"**He is the Abhorsen-in-waiting.**" Mogget told her, eyes half-lidded. They reflected the flickering ballet of the fire. "**You must teach him.**"

"**I barely know enough to be considered Abhorsen.**" Chlorr spat, critically, "**How should I teach him anything?**"

"**I don't know. I'm just a cat.**" Mogget seemed ready to say more, but then they heard Terciel returning. As he stepped out of the trees, they could see that he carried two fish. Mogget looked at one with abandoned satisfaction.

"**One for each of us,**" he said, then noticed the white cat's stare and added, "**But I'll give some of mine to Mogget.**"


	6. Into Death

**Authors Note**: Okay, here's chapter 5! Sorry for making you wait so long! I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

Thanks everyone for your reviews—I probably wouldn't keep writing if I thought nobody read it.

Chapter 5

The day went quickly, and the group soon found themselves out of the forest and in the open valley between Mt. Aunden and the great Ratterlin. Night was falling fast and there was no where to camp where they would be safe from the Dead, so Chlorr insisted that they push forward.

"**Abhorsen, I'm tired. Can't we rest?**" Terciel said. He did look awfully tired. His shoulders were hunched and his head downcast. For a moment, Chlorr considered.

"**No. We must keep going,**" she said, avoiding why they had to continue. She took long strides and kept her senses acute. She wouldn't let them sneak up on her.

"**Well, why?**" the question came out in a gasp, and the young man lifted his gaze to meet his aunt's.

"**Well, there is danger that comes with the night, Terciel.**" she was trying to keep from saying it out loud, as if it hadn't really sunk in yet. "**The Dead.**" There she said it. Perhaps he would keep up now.

Terciel crept closer to the Abhorsen, and even began to reach for her hand. Then, he silently pulled it back. He was nearly fifteen, he wasn't a little boy anymore.

"**Mogget,**" Chlorr said, rather loudly. Terciel jumped. "**Watch behind us.**" Mogget jumped from her shoulders and onto the boys.

"**She's bossy.**" Mogget purred into the young mans ear. Terciel twitched slightly, either from the humor, or because of that cat purr tickling his ear. They continued on like this for another hour Mogget watching from behind, Chlorr from the front and Terciel as close to his aunt as he thought proper.

"**We'll stop here.**" the Abhorsen said, her voice weary. "**Terciel, do you know how to cast a diamond of protection?**" The boy nodded. "**I'll cast the north and east mark, you do south and west.**" Her dead sense tingled in the back of her mind. "**Quickly.**" she added, hastily. She finished her marks and stared back the way they came. She could just see the moving figues of the Dead.

"**Are you ready for your first encounter with the Dead?**" Mogget asked the Abhorsen-in-Waiting.

"**You mean I'll see them again?**" Terciel coughed out the words, finishing up the diamond.

"**We really should be looking for the stubborn necromancer that keeps sending us such wonderful presents!**" The white cat's meow echoed out into the open valley. The lights from the marks kept the weakest of the Dead at bay, but some ignored it. They were stupid and determined--a bad combination. "**You should go into Death and thank him.**" Mogget suggested. Chlorr knew he was right. Stupid cat.

"**I've never--**" she stopped herself. She couldn't let Terciel know about her inexperience. "**Will you be coming with me?**" Mogget nodded reluctantly. "**Terciel, if the Dead happen to break the Diamond, you must protect my body, and your life. Can you use a sword?**" The boy nodded. She handed him her sword, wordlessly. The Charter marks fluttered across the metal, catching the light from the Diamond.

Chlorr sat crossed-legged and put her hands in her lap, searching for the border between Life and Death. A cold chill touched her face, and she flinched away. Silently taking a breath, she plunged forward.

Terciel curled up in a ball and watched his aunt's body freeze over. He was too tired to wonder why it had happened. Mogget grinned, and jumped away into thin air. He'd worry about that later. The bravest of the Dead had gotten close enough to touch, had there not been a magical barrier between them. Their features were mutilated and sometimes missing, but the parts you could make out weren't smiling happy faces. Their joints were stiff, and muscles didn't seem to work the same once one had died. Their arms flailed every which way. One of them actually skimmed the Diamond. Bright light flared, and the thing screamed. The noise made the young Abhorsen-in-Waiting clutch his ears, trying to block out the sound.

Once the noise had stopped, Terciel flopped his hands down. What was he doing? A sword at his feet, his aunt frozen over, corpses flinging themselves at his party. How had this happened? Tears began to flow down his cheeks. They poured out uncontrollably, plopping onto his red breeches. Slowly, they stopped. He wiped his face with his sleeve and thanked the Charter that this had happened when he was alone. He knew that he had to suck it up, but he wasn't sure if he could.

His eyes closed for a minute. He shook his head, trying to wake himself up. He couldn't go to sleep. He had to protect the Abhorsen...

His eyes closed once more, and this time he hadn't the strength to open them. Sleep overcame him.

Chlorr fell into the waters of the First Precinct. Quickly, she pulled herself out of the freezing river before the current could sweep her away, farther into Death. She could just feel the warmth of Life at her back. She could turn around, and she'd be safe. But she knew that wasn't true. She would still be Abhorsen. She would just be running away. Mogget stepped up next to her, out of nowhere.

"**What are you waiting for?**" he asked. Chlorr responded with silence. She knew he was right. He was always right.

She shook herself and started to concentrate. She could feel the presence of a necromancer. A thin metallic scent crept into her nostrils. Free magic. She turned her head to the right, searching the vast grey horizon for a silhouette. Nothing. Maybe he was deeper into Death, she mused. The idea of leaving the comfort of life farther behind her wasn't appealing. Mogget butted his head against the back of her legs, encouraging her. She took a reluctant step forward. Then another. Something moved to her left. She took a spell casting stance and turned toward it. A rat-shaped spirit leaped out of the water, heading for her face with the speed and precision only a dead being could possess.

She stepped cautiously out of the way, and it flew over her shoulder. The marks for burning and binding floated off her fingers, attacking the spirit. It froze, Charter-flame rippling across its stark black skin. Its pit eyes stared at her, flames unlike those she had sent onto him burning deep inside. She ran a pale hand over her bandolier, choosing carefully. After a flustered moment of indecision, she pulled out Saraneth. A trusty bell, a favorite of most Abhorsen's for its security.

She rang it in an arch, a slight shake causing another ring. She flinched at the added sound, cursing her naïveté. Mogget seemed as if he expected the mistake. Ignoring his smug demeanor, she stared at the dead creature before her. It wasn't too strong. Probably from just beyond the First Gate.

"**Who commands you**," she said sounding rather meek. The faint roar of the First Gate hummed in the background.

It gave no response. She tried asking again, but still it didn't say anything. She mentally turned the page of the Book of the Dead, analyzing her options. She stood with her eyes closed—a dire mistake she would find—and found two options: ring Dyrim and give it speaking capabilities, or simply send it on to the Ninth Precinct. She kept her eyes closed, trying to decide.

Suddenly, a sword point touched her back. She tensed, and tried to twist her head back to see who, or what, was behind her. No such luck. Whoever was holding her at sword-point wouldn't be visible unless she turned around. She heard Mogget hiss, and attack her opponent, but he was stilled by the sound of a bell. It was high and crisp—Ranna. Mogget stepped back woozily, and then disappeared completely. She'd wonder where he went later; she had her own problems. Chlorr shook with fright, as the sword was pushed harder against her. But it didn't penetrate her armor. She could always turn to face her opponent, but she had to sword. Or anything to counter-attack, for that matter. She could try to use her bells, but they were probably nothing compared to what this person could do with theirs. Better to just take things as they come.

Chlorr took deep breaths, trying to calm herself down and think. There must be something she could do. There was the sound of someone fiddling with leather straps, and then another bell. It was Kibeth. It sounded much stronger and powerful than when she had rung it. She tried not to move, and then realized that the light jig that Kibeth sent wasn't meant for her. The dead spirit happily started moving once more, against her binding, and disappeared into life. This necromancer was much stronger than her.

"**Turn around**," said a fiery and metallic voice, infused deeply with Free magic. The smell seeped into her throat, making her gag.


End file.
